


Hypnotized, Paralyzed, Obsessed

by GradyNumbers



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5153510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GradyNumbers/pseuds/GradyNumbers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The club scene is something completely unfamiliar to Mr. Wrench, however, he becomes very familiar with its chaos when he is hired by a highly distinguished "business" head to be the bodyguard and overseer of his deviant son, a man known as Numbers. A game of cat and mouse begins to unfold between the stoic cowboy and the alluring punk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hypnotized, Paralyzed, Obsessed

**Author's Note:**

> More of an experiment to see if I can write things other than tragedy. As always feedback is very very much appreciated. If it goes anywhere I might write more of a story, I apologize for it only being a oneshot. Thank you for viewing~

Entering the club was an overwhelming attack on the senses, either positive or negative depending on the opinion of the patron. For Numbers it was his life and his full experience. The predominantly dim environment occasionally streaking with flashes of color that were almost blinding, the earsplitting mixes of music and rumbling bass that shook through the ground and up through the core of every deserted and desperate soul that found themselves in the frantic modern arena, the waves of every individual as they swayed, bobbed, and stumbled about in the sea of lost creatures, like phantoms searching for their missing homes and finding a place where they belong among the crowd. The lights shrouded who they really were, the noise washed out any unwanted vocalization and concealed even their own thoughts. When you entered the mob of anonymous members, you joined who they were, what they were. You got lost in the sea of the unknown, which is a simple delight for most of those who found their way inside. It certainly was for Numbers. However, he never truly lost himself among the crowd, but rather he manipulated it. His look, his touch, even his breath sent the absent souls quivering, now even separating themselves from the chaotic club environment and only focusing on him. They lost themselves more in him then the mass, and he in them. It wasn't about love or even fantasy or desire, it never was, it was about the control and his own desire to forget. The alcohol was also a helpful ally in this process, but this process had changed. Something had changed. And that something was Wrench.   
His bodyguard took in the scene much differently than he did. The moment Wrench stepped through the doors of the club, his body revolted. The stench of alcohol and sweat tightened his throat and the mobs of vacant individuals brushing against him combined with the staggering vibrations dominated over any sense of spatial mapping he had. He was lost like all of those around him, but not at all in the way he desired to be. He was cramped, dazed, almost paralyzed, not only by the severely disorienting surroundings, but by the man he was supposed to be supervising. This intense, provoking man roamed amidst the removed cluster of misfits like a predator, enjoying the enticements of one before having his fill and hopping to the next. Yet as he prowled about his pawns his deep, black eyes never abandoned Wrench's general area. No matter where he was he could feel the inky gaze and if he dared make contact with those murky eyes, the predator would grin, sending a flush through his insides and a shiver down his spine, and he hated every last bit of that man. He was being driven mad, he was being teased, tormented, even exploited, all of which drove Wrench into a frenzy. He refused to let himself be manipulated like one of the woeful, fumbling creatures in the crowd let alone by this rioter, this rebel, this punk. Thinking of him, his engrossing stare, wicked expressions, and parted lips that often twisted into a captivating smirk, held together collectively by his haughty demeanor lead Wrench into an overall impression of temptation then immediate frustration. He scorched with a fire fueled by craving, hunger, and lust. He burned for what those around him were grasping. He yearned for what Numbers was offering, yet withdrawing. He struggled for a way out. He was flooded with the desire that fed the crowd raging around him and absolutely despised it. His fist balled up tightly as he struck the wall. He refused to give in.  
Numbers peered up from his position in the swirling stretch of dancers and spotted his bodyguard near the back wall where he usually stationed himself safely, seemingly recoiling, shoulders tensed, fists clenched, whole body tightened and rigid. Numbers could see his bright eyes boiling and he felt his own breath disappear with pleasure. He concealed a grin and continued to mingle among the others, caressing, grinding, and occasionally nipping at necks of his more interested marks, but he couldn't go long without drawing his attention back to the stoic creature still lurking in the back. Wrench met his gaze reluctantly, and Numbers proceeded to run his hands along the back of his current causality, tracing the spine and clutching the shoulder blades, tangling his fingers in the cloth before unraveling and slowly exploring, pressuring his touch at points and gently grazing at others. He kept his eyes locked with Wrench's as he moved his hand upward and laced his fingers through the hair of his pawn, craning his neck towards his ear, tugging at his locks, and releasing a low gasp. He expected a fierce reaction from his guard, as was the norm, but Wrench only continued to glare before his eyes rolled back to staring elsewhere. Numbers waited for a fight, watched for darting eyes and trembling shoulders, but Wrench was stable and composed. He was snarling in clear resentment, but resisted. He was done with this game and clearly held himself above Numbers' charm.   
The passionate heat within Numbers flared. Wrench kept his eyes fixed elsewhere and even began to relax, slowly releasing himself from the hunter's grasp and suddenly the ranks shifted. Numbers felt his sought after chase slipping away and his jaw tightened in disdain. These others invested in him didn't matter and the resentment bubbled and churned within him until the sea of souls surrounding him became a cluster of heat. An unpleasant pool of grasping and clutching, pushing and pulling, tugging and shoving. Here he found himself longing for Wrench, the indomitable spirit among the rest. He craved to grasp his shoulders, his back, his arms, his jaw. He thirsted to know how he tasted and how his tongue twisted when he put it to rare work. He ached to get a noise to pass through his lips. He wanted him, his strong will, his tangled hair, his bright gaze, and his fire. Numbers knew the tables had turned, however, he would not let himself be bested at his own game, to be the desiring and not the desired. For a moment that didn't matter and he simply wanted Wrench, but the thought sent his boundaries skyward and he shook himself, both from the thought and from the crowd. He was aggravated with himself and his own desires and he need released from this pointless scene. He marched towards Wrench, swiftly signing "I'm leaving," before striding out the backdoor. Wrench noticed his avoiding eyes as he stepped away, and hastily marched in his wake. The two slipped through the door into the back alleyway and shivered as the stunningly chill air froze over their physical heat, the mental continuing to blister within.  
As Numbers hurried in front of him, shoulders hunched and stature tense, Wrench couldn't resist the fight any longer. He felt Numbers' frustration match his own and he knew they were on an equal level of want and aspiration. He finally decided he would play the predator, and his time to attack was now.  
Numbers felt a hard tug on the back of his collar and before he could attempt to pull away, a hand grabbed his shoulder and forced him still. He was spun around, shoved sternly into one of the brick walls that enclosed them, and only Wrench's face was in his vision. His brilliant eyes blazed with the passion that Numbers had so desperately pined for. His own breath was caught in his throat as Wrench let out a quick and hard sigh, the steam enveloping the two heated men and closing them off from the world. It was only them, their bitterness, their frustration, and their want. The tension snapped as Wrench lurched forward, lips connecting powerfully with Numbers' who did not shrink away. He met them steadily and his breath released. His arms wrapped around Wrench and pulled him even closer, and they connected again, over and over, lips clinging as tightly as the men were to each other. The suction grew forceful and vigorous, the kisses deep and powerful, and as the fervor intensified the muscles relaxed and they become lost in each other, but not like the wandering souls inside. Their ultimate desire was met, but only grew as they continued.  
Wrench's tongue darted forward for a moment, promptly gracing Numbers' own and tracing the roof of his mouth before withdrawing, but Numbers leaned forward with it, dragging it back and twisting his own around. They tilted and explored and breathed each other in with excitement, the steam continuously rising around them. As Wrench caught further onto Numbers' rhythm, he broke for a moment to catch his breath before leaning into Numbers' neck and kissing, sending Numbers' whole body straightening upward, throwing his head back and revealing more of his throat for Wrench to dive into. As Wrench traversed with varying degrees of vigor, the shifts from tender to sharp sent Numbers reeling and Wrench could feel his deep moans on his lips, turning him to apply more force as he went further along. He let his teeth pinch skin and Numbers hands tightened and tugged his jacket, another jagged gasp crawling into the empty air. Wrench reached a hand up into Numbers' thick hair and he felt a shiver rake violently through the man's body.  
Numbers relished in the absolute pleasure and release, but decided to establish his own control. Keeping one hand clutching at Wrench's back he let the other travel along the man's side and down to his hip. Wrench stiffened as Numbers advanced further, fingers softly grazing over his thigh, up to his groin, and caressing. Numbers felt Wrench lips depart from his neck. The touch had sent a surge of heat up throughout his body and up with it a low rumbling in his throat. Striving to draw it out, Numbers pushed further and he felt Wrench's grip on his hair tug even tighter, and with another harder caress the growl finally rose from his throat, however it had altered into a high and surprised gasp and eventually, as Numbers continued, into a low whimper. Numbers grinned to himself and tilted towards Wrench's cheek, teasing with gentle kisses before dragging his teeth down along his jaw line. Wrench returned a growl and Numbers' head was swiftly pulled back as the other man firmly jerked at his thick hair. Numbers grinned again just as Wrench moved back to his lips, trying to kiss the smile away. The smirk did eventually melt, but as the two dove further and further into each other, hands reaching under shirts and tracing around beltlines, the alleyway became unfitting. Numbers broke from Wrench's lips, eyes connected and unwavering, breathing rough and harsh. He took Wrench's hand and lead him into the street, hailing for a cab. The nearest hotel would more than suffice for how they wished to continue.


End file.
